Rhetorical Questions
by TotalAlias
Summary: "The Leo I know isn't all of that. He wouldn't do any of those things. Not my Leo. My Leo would... Well. You should already know so I won't tell you."


**Alrighty, I know it's been a while, but here's a fic from TotalAlias. I hope you all like it.**

**Thanks to MirrorDede for beta'ing! :D**

**If I owned Pandora Hearts, I would still have my Elliot. )':**

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><p>Baskervilles tend to work under cover of darkness. Whether the appeal of the moon and stars was the cause or the mere fact that the night fit well with the mood of their goings on, who was to say. But whatever the reason, it was not until long after the sun had passed that the Head of the Baskerville house bid his own followers goodnight (or good morning, if you will).<p>

Leo Baskerville walked with heavy feet down the long corridor leading to his chamber. Upon arriving, he wasted no time in discarding his heavy, bloodred cloak and changing into his nightclothes. He could just hear his bed calling him. Oh, he was exhausted. The time of preparation must be one of the busiest of all. Soon, the Baskervilles would make a very decisive move, so everything had to be perfect. Every detail precise; every obstacle prepared for.

And on top of that, Leo was a bit anxious for the next move. He knew what the end result would be, and what it would cost. He didn't like it in the least; he had always been one to avoid the unpleasant. But what must be done must be done, he supposed. And it was for everyone's benefit in the end. So it was okay, right?

But all that could wait until morning. Right then, what he needed was sleep. He slid wearily and rather unceremoniously into bed and closed his eyes. Finally, finally he could get some sleep. He could rest his body and mind and feel better in the morning.

Only a few moments later he opened his eyes again, but when he did, he was no longer lying down. There was no bed at all, in fact. He was no longer in his chamber. He was somewhere completely unfamiliar.

The room - was it a room? - he had found himself in was distictly divided, one side was only black, and the other was only the purest of whites. But in the middle, there was no line separating the two. It was impossible to determine where the light ended and the dark began, but somewhere in the middle, Leo was standing right in it. There was an exceptionally large black birdcage in the darkness - or was the darkness inside the bircage? - and in the light there was a white grand piano. Or perhaps the light was exuding from the piano. It was impossible to tell.

"Hey," a voice said.

Where was it coming from, this voice? It sounded so familiar. It was deep, it was warm, it...

"Leo."

...It called his name.

Oh, Leo knew that voice. He was certain, it couldn't belong to anyone else.

He looked toward the piano, and there he was. Sitting on the bench in his school uniform was light itself. "Elliot?"

Elliot smiled at him. Leo hadn't seen that smile in... he didn't know how long it had been.

"What's up?" he asked, and Leo was taken aback by the casualness of his tone. But then again, it was exactly like Elliot to say "What's up?" as if they had seen each other just yesterday. As if they had bid each other goodnight just last evening and just this morning Leo had roused him from bed, promising that they would be late to class if he didn't get up that instant. As if, just this morning, he had let Elliot sleep a few minutes longer, because he knew his friend had nightmares that frequently disturbed his sleep.

"Nothing, really," he said shakily. Memories of those times brought a lump to his throat. He was thankful for his thick glasses, hiding the tears that welled in his eyes.

But hadn't he stopped wearing glasses?

He was certain there was a pair in his bedside drawer, but he hadn't worn glasses since Oz's coming of age ceremony, so how were they currently on his face?

But Elliot just motioned him over to the piano bench, so he put the question of glasses aside and went over to him. It wasn't the strangest of things in this place anyway (he was also wondering just how he had ended up back in his Lutwidge school uniform, which should be in his closet at the Nightray house).

"So how's it going?" Elliot asked as he approached.

"Ah, it's been alright." Leo answered, taking a seat on the bench.

"No really. _How's it going_." He spoke with the air of one who already knew the answer to his question.

"What do you mean?"

Elliot rolled his eyes. "I mean, how's it _over there_?" He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the blackness to his right.

Leo blinked. Over there? In all that darkness? "I still don't understand."

"Yeah? Me neither!"

At this point, Leo was beyond confused. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Elliot, please."

"What!"

"You tell me!"

"That!" Elliot's voice rose in pitch as he pointed once again to his right.

Leo took a deep breath. "Okay, what about it?"

"Well, what are you doing over there?"

Two black eyebrows rose above the rims of his glasses. "_I'm_ over there?"

"Not right now you're not." Elliot raised his hands in frustration. "Ugh, you know what? Nevermind."

Thank goodness. He hadn't the slightest idea what Elliot was getting at, or what the dark mass on the other end of the room even was. A change of subject would be a great idea.

Elliot crossed his arms and leant back against the piano. "So how's my brother doing?"

Gilbert? How was Gilbert doing? Leo didn't know how to respond. "Well..." he began. He really had no clue how Gilbert was doing. "I haven't really spoken to him." That was true, right? He'd been rather... busy as of late. He hadn't really spoken to anyone at all, other than the Baskervilles, Vincent, Echo and...

"What about the shrimp then?" Leo thought he detected the hint of an edge to Elliot's voice. It was almost as if he _knew_. As if he knew that the "shrimp" in question was about to enter a very dangerous situation. And that Leo would be the one to put him there. And kill so many innocent people just as he caused the death of his own best friend. Did Elliot know?

Oh but that was nonsense. There was no way Elliot could know what he'd been up to. How could he possibly know? He couldn't. But... did he? Did he know? What did he know? What would he think of it?

"You haven't spoken to my brother and you haven't seen the shrimp." Was Elliot eyeing him suspiciously? "So what _have_ you been up to then?" It was a casually phrased question, but Leo felt as if he were being interrogated.

_I hold Elliot in very high esteem._

And it was true. There was no one he thought higher of than Elliot. So he didn't want to tell him. What would he say in return? He didn't want him to know. What if he knew already?

"Do you like it?" Elliot, apparently, was perfectly fine with recieving no answers. Perhaps his questions were rhetorical? "Your life? You like whatever it is you've been doing?"

Leo feared the questions that would follow if he were to remain silent. He feared the answers to those questions, whether Elliot demanded them or not. So he tried to stay vague. But how long would that last with Elliot? "It's complicated."

"How is it complicated?" Oh no. These were just the things Leo had been dreading. He really didn't want to tell him. But why couldn't he? He told everyone else his position and his plans (within reason; he obviously didn't give out classified information) without hesitation. But Elliot... Elliot wouldn't understand. That was it, right? Elliot wouldn't understand... because he wasn't the sort to... do... what Leo was doing...

"That's... difficult to explain."

"You mean you don't _want_ to explain." Elliot fixed him with a look that pierced him straight through. "Okay then, I won't force you."

Leo let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But he didn't feel any more relieved. He still felt... heavy. He felt heavy, like his entire soul was being weighed down by a thousand bricks.

"That's like you, though," Elliot continued, "Complicating things. I swear you must have something against simplicity." He shook his head. "But that's the only part that's like you. I still don't know what you're doing over _there_, but you don't understand it yet so whatever. Just... All that," he said, nudging his head in that direction, "the Leo I know isn't all of that. He wouldn't do any of those things." He stood from the bench. "Not _my_ Leo. My Leo would... Well. You should already know, so I won't tell you." And with that, Elliot turned and began walking off into the brightness.

The heavy, sickening feeling Leo had felt before was nothing compared to the fear and emptiness that descended on him as his friend walked away. "Elliot!" he screamed. "Elliot, come back!"

And then there was Elliot, sitting beside him on the bench once again. "What?" he asked pointedly.

"I... I'm sorry."

Elliot gave him a look. One of those incredulous, signature "Elliot" looks. "Well don't apologize to me! Are you kidding?" He stood up abruptly from the bench, towering over Leo in his frustration. "Apologies are for when there's nothing left you can do! If you're so sorry, make things right." He closed his eyes and took an audibly deep breath, calming himself.

"I always thought you looked better without your glasses," he continued after a time. "Your eyes are so beautiful."

Leo hoped Elliot couldn't see the way those same eyes widened behind his glasses, which had proven useful for the second time since the encounter began. He also hoped he hadn't exposed the comment's effect in any other visible way, and that the heat in his face didn't show. Quite embarassing.

But it was okay if it was just Elliot, right?

Elliot continued on as if he hadn't seen anything. "But you just insisted on wearing those glasses," he said. "There was no persuading you, no. And now you wait until after I leave to take them off?"

Leo's hands fidgeted in his lap. "Well, that wasn't really the reason-"

Much to his surprise, he was interrupted by a pair of hands reaching forward to remove his glasses.

Elliot folded the glasses, placed them on top of the piano and turned back toward his friend. "You know," he said, "just because you don't wear the glasses anymore, doesn't mean that you should stop trying to _see_."

Leo didn't call after him this time, he only watched as his closest friend dissappeared where he stood; into the light with a small smile painted on his face.

He remained still for a few moments, taking in what had just happened. After a minute or so he turned around on the bench to face the piano. He straightened his back, held his head high, put his fingers to the keys and began to play. He hadn't the slightest idea what he was playing, he just was. And it almost felt as if Elliot was there playing with him.

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><p><strong>So how was that, hmm? Let me know how I did!<strong>

**...I know, I'm a little rusty. And this is my first time writing Elliot at his actual age (I do have a fic with him as a child though) and my first time writing Leo at all, so be kind, please. :)**

**By the way, feedback helps me write faster, and I've got some GilOz on the way, if that helps. ;)**

**-TotalAlias-**


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